


God Sleeps at Night

by keiimil



Category: Red Dead Redemption
Genre: Agibail and Mary are mentioned, Charles Smith is like there for 3 sentences, Hurt/Comfort, Its basically like hurt comfort, M/M, Spoilers, The big L isnt in here bc I dont hate yall, enjoy, wow theres a tag for that
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-03
Updated: 2018-12-03
Packaged: 2019-09-06 11:26:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16831693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keiimil/pseuds/keiimil
Summary: Women troubles lead John and Arthur to a stress relieving day on horseback, but someone ends up in over his head.





	God Sleeps at Night

John Marston.  
A sight for sore eyes in most times now, pain gets to your head and mellows you. He knew to dislike John most of the time, he never did care for him. He acted stupid, deep down they all knew he had to have something more to offer.  
If you said he'd be gone before old age could do it's damage, though,, no one would doubt it. No one would question it. No one lives that long anymore. It's just not possible. There are exceptions but the brittle and old die before they can get their feet through the door of immortality.  
Arthur Morgan himself never expected to live that long. He was getting on in the years, he knew it was a matter of time. Yet,, not so soon. He still didn't know when it was, in fact. But something just,,, told him otherwise. Otherwise, completely. Headspins in dreams and the fear similar of an animal caught in a trap kept him restless most nights.  
The camp was deafening. Not from how loud it was, much rather the opposite. Trust issues hung on the air. From mountaintop crevaces, to wild bustling plains, to now marsh and swampland, a home was never exactly permanent in any place he had visited. He felt like a ghost most times, drifting from place to place, never belonging. Never wanting to. But the closest one he had anymore was that damned John Marston. His family was important, the only hope left.  
But he soon suspected the infighting was getting to be too much to bear. So he offered a day of escape. It'd been quiet for a few days, the dogs were off their path, so he took the younger out on their own horses to go riding just to clear the air. He knew to dislike John, he never cared for him. Yet, that wasn't true anymore. Was it ever?  
"Heard you two goin' at it the other night."  
",,Yeah, suppose half the camp prolly did by now."  
"It ain't my business to pry, but we're worried."  
The silence never existed between these two, the thunder of hooves, the chirping of the birds and nature around them, the distant babble of the stream alongside them, it was peaceful. Peaceful enough to overlay the mood.  
"John?"  
"Morgan."  
"I ain't never been one for talkin,' hell I suppose neither 'a us are, but if you're anything like me you're dyin to talk."  
It was the truth, everyone knew it. John Marston was the man with a thousand words, you could see it on his face, but his damned pride never let them break through. However, called out on his actions, he mostly always caved to Arthur.  
"Well,, 's just not right anymore. The way it looks, the way it is,,, it seems fine on the surface but me 'n her aren't working out. I keep doing these stupid things and,,, well last night she told me it's the last time she'd see this. She's supposed to be leavin' tonight with the boy. I ain't got it in my heart to stop her anymore. It'd be better for 'em to restart."  
This time, the silence hung in the air. It stung, more like. Arthur's been there before, suffered alone though. It hurts to let someone out of your life without that choice to stop them. All you can do is hope they'll be back.  
"Well I'm real sorry John, but it's probably for the best."  
"That woman, Mary?"  
"That's how I know."  
Arthur wasn't quiet that night it happened. Still.  
"So you think I should,,"  
"Let her go. It's all you can do. Women are stubborn, sometimes I think they're the bull and we're the cattle. If she charges ahead, you just gotta trust she'll wait for you. Worse comes to worse, if she doesn't, there's plenty 'a pasture to stick to."  
"Hah,,, Hey, since when did Arthur Morgan become a poet?"  
"Since when did John Marston listen well enough ta understand Arthur Morgan's poetry?"  
",,,He didn't."  
A light chuckle came from the two as the trail continued, bending and twisting deeper,, yet trees thinned towards a slightly hilled clearing.  
"What I'm sayin is--"  
"Nah I get what you're sayin. Something about bulls and needin to eat some grass."  
"No? Damnit Marston, what I MEAN is that if she comes back, it's your option to keep her. Woman's about as set in stone as water in the ocean."  
"'Woman's about as set in stone as water in the ocean.' At this rate you can run away with Jack and start poetry meetin's at the chapel."  
"Nah you know I'd never leave you."  
",,An what's that supposed to mean?"  
"Well, whatever you want it to mean to you."  
That silence from before had lingered, though faded to this point. And yet, all at once, it was gone. The forest returned, the path remained through the plains and to the other side through the woods as they rode. Thundering hooves, chirping birds and forest, a river returned to their side. John spoke after a long time of glancing to Arthur uncertainly.  
"I'm afraid I don't exactly know how to take that."  
"Is that so much of a bad thing? Cat got your tongue Mr. Marston?"  
For the first time in awhile, the smiles felt genuine from the bigger male. He'd always felt his time on this Earth was fleeting, he was unwelcome, living on borrowed time, or just even a ghost. But right now, that didn't matter. Whatever weakening bond was between the two had been reignited. Through jokes about the unthinkable,, or honesty,, neither really knew. He could tell John didn't feel his words were his own by the lack of eye contact and unsure tone.  
"It's been awhile since we've done this. Been alone out in the middle 'a nowhere where it didn't matter much just to talk."  
"Yeah John, sure has. It's kinda,, nice, to have this lil escape."  
"Minus the questioning poetry from Morgan, I suppose."  
Offering an eye roll to John, Arthur rode a bit faster to catch up next to the other before adding a comment all new to even him. "Questioning's a big word from someone as small as you." Nose held high, Arthur smirks to the other, earning his own bitter-Marston-branded eye roll.  
"You want me to run you off the road and into the river?!"  
"John Martson you are all bark and no bite! I think that wolf bit it right outta you on that mountain all those months ago. I'd like to see you try i--"  
Try it he did, and succeeded. He knew Arthur's horse wasn't even broken in yet, so the sudden closeness caused Arthur's steed to slow just enough to kick him off and not injure him. Right into the river. And that's enough for John to circle around, laughing as he stops and gets down from his horse to come to the others aid. Arthur, now rubbing his head as he sits up in the middle of the stream, glares at a clearly emotionally improved John Marston. A hand is held out and taken, and both men are to their feet, one specifically more cold than the other now.  
"Oh what's wrong, Morgan? Was that bite not hard enough for you?"  
John, pushing his limits entirely, advances to back Arthur into the water again out of pure childish horse assing around, hands going to the others arms. He doesn't clearly doesn't expect to be met with the resistance of a slightly shaking and somewhat angry man bigger than him. Yet he is. But, for the record, Arthur's holding back a smile, too.  
"Nooo Marston do not-- do not touch me, your bite isn't nearly hard enough anyways- get off of me!"  
John, all while laughing more than he has in a loong time, manages to pull the big sack of man out of the river and get him to dry land to help him start drying off.  
And pretty soon a makeshift camp is set up, most of Arthur's clothes are laid out to dry, and he's in a newer,,, much simpler one. A shirt, pants, suspenders, he thinks he remembers reading somewhere about it being named the gunslinger,, or something like that. Feels comfortable, so that's all that matters. It's around sunset when the joking about river jumping starts between the two. And it carries into the night as Charles catches up to check on the two. He's left in roughly 10 minutes after getting an explanation of the events with some tasteful details kindly left out.  
Right when the moon is overhead, another more different conversation strikes. One familiar to them, yet not. One about Arthur, surprisingly enough.  
"You remember Mary."  
"Yeah, 'a course, why?"  
"I wasn't exactly honest about that. I was, but,,, not the whole truth. There's something I won't talk about with this, but,, you know she called me over recently."  
"The whole camp knows, you didn't take it well at all."  
",,,I guess not. She sent a letter for me to see her. Said she wasn't looking for nothing, and sent me off to find her brother of all people. Turns me down and uses me to get someone back she lost," pausing, he looks from the stars to John, "boy joined a cult, stole a horse, and when I stopped him he tried to kill himself after almost getting hit by a damned train. She left n she's probably home by now but,, goddamnit."  
Looking away, the bigger male seems rather,, numb to this. So recent and yet he doesn't seem to have any emotion towards it as he shrugs and continues, "See. Women are a lot more trouble than their worth. I don't see how we were meant to get along with em. Don't get me wrong I respect the hell out of them, but I just can't put love into another one again."  
"You know I'm startin to think you're gettin a little sinful over there Arthur."  
"Oh yeah? What holy man do we got to stop us from living our lives now?"  
Silence fills the camp once more as Arthur looks back to the stars, soft moonlight finding itself to wash out the other lights. It's peaceful to him, a slight buzz helping the fact that he can't see John's slightly wide gaze boring into him. He can't really feel it either, he doesn't need to. He wouldn't care anyways. He simply traces constellations as John takes his time in filling the silence.  
"I mean,, I,,,"  
What Arthur didn't know was John'd been having that mentor-like for Arthur for the longest time. John's clung to his advice and words and just about everything. With this recent questioning to Abigail's love,, hell she's leaving, he needed a night like this for awhile. He'd started to realize maybe this was unhealthy. At the very least it was worthy to get the two hung.  
"I heard a rumor God sleeps at night once, maybe it's true," Arthur speaks as he sits up to move and fish out his journal. It's the best night he'd had in awhile, even if they didn't figure to pack food. Pencil dancing sloppily on the paper, Arthur finds the sky looks a lot more different this time around as he tries to copy it down. Unfortunately, it's unlikely he'll ever finish it. In seconds, there's another person next to him. Maybe minutes, he has been drinking. Who knows.  
"So He's not watchin'."  
"Probably not, fella'd have to have a lot of eyes to watch every person down here. 'Lotta eyes get just as tired," Arthur let's out a chuckle, smile staying ever so slightly as he continues the sketch, using light circular pattern to give depth to the drawing. That's when he notices the staring, more on his art than anything but there nonetheless.  
"But you sure are watchin, ain't you tired at all? You get kicked into some river I didn't know about when I turned my back?"  
"Nah, you know everyone in camp's interested in that little book ya always carryin around."  
"Oh yeah? You're lucky you're allowed ta see it right now," he closes the book abruptly and tucks it in the pockets before turning to the younger man beside him to continue, "Now, can I help you, boy?" Brow raised questioningly to John, he motions with a swift nod to how close they are before looking back down to him.  
There's a split second where John seems to stay in place before the world seems to skip and there's a soft,, oddly familiar wet pressure against his lips. This time, it isn't the end of a bottle, and there's no wish to either of them that they didn't need this. It doesn't last long enough, not nearly for either of them, and Arthur isn't quick enough to react before John's left him to stomp out the fire.  
Words, silence, it's all gone and left with something even more deafening. A pounding heart. When the light's gone near them, the bigger man finally finds himself on his feet and oddly able to see John. Embarrassed, and personally mortified while ignoring eye contact. In even fewer seconds, Arthur's taken the other's wrist and pulled him in closer. John Marston may have grown up from that kid he'd met those years ago, but very occasionally he'd still act like a kid. Mainly because he knew he could be hung for this in public opinion.  
But instead, he's pulled half into an embrace and half into another kiss as Arthurs hat is tossed to the floor. By who? Jury's out. This one, however, the kiss,,, lasts longer. It's more of a kiss this time, rough around the edges but caring. Genuinely so, Arthurs hand even cups around the other's cheek, brushing back behind his ear and to his neck to pull him a bit more in. When they're apart again, there's more silence for a second before John's pulling him down to his own sleeping mat. Arguably, John got the better spot, they end up learning. And this time, they're keeping this secret from Dutch.


End file.
